


Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

by muzakchan



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, and Cuteness, this is all fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21738859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muzakchan/pseuds/muzakchan
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale spend Christmas day together, which is a new thing for them.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45
Collections: Chaste Omens





	Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This was a super quick drabble I did as part of the 31 Days of Ineffables prompt list :) it's just meant to be 1) a quick read and 2) a warm story, so enjoy! :D

_ They _ had not spent a Christmas together. 

They had, of course, spent Christmases and the holidays that preceded Christmas in the same area. In the beginning, they had each rationalized it as an accident - passing the other in the street, dancing together at the Winter Solstice celebration. After a few centuries, it became harder to ignore: there was some sort of strange pull each one experienced around this time of the year. Some time around the 1500’s, after Aziraphale had experienced a hundred lonely Christmases, they began to meet intentionally, celebrating in the fashion of the time. 

They had not spent a Christmas _together_. 

The last few dozen Christmases had seen Crowley turning up on Aziraphale’s door on Christmas day (once,  _ only  _ once, he had technically arrived on Boxing day, to which Aziraphale had thrown such a fit that Crowley had gotten the clock in the Bentley fixed, threatening it with a sentences he usually reserved for his plants). He’d bring a present and some alcohol, and they would indulge. 

Aziraphale wanted to spend Christmas _together_. 

Crowley arrived at the bookshop on Christmas Eve in the usual manner - screeching to a halt, coming just shy of hitting a pedestrian. The woman began to shout at him as he exited the car. 

“Happy Holidays,” Crowley said, succeeding only in infuriating the woman. 

She began to screech at this as well, telling him at least two unfounded reasons why he should say “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays”. He had no doubt she would have continued on for quite a while, but Crowley snapped his fingers and removed her mouth. 

Her eyes widened with fear, and Crowley sighed with relief. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice lilted across the pavement. 

He turned and saw the angel standing in the doorway of his shop, arms crossed, a disapproving frown on his face. 

“Hi, Aziraphale,” he grinned brightly. “Merry Christmas!” 

The mouthless woman behind him made a half-frightened, half-enraged noise. 

Aziraphale tutted and snapped his fingers. The mouth returned to the woman’s face, and, with a “Well!”, she turned and scurried up the sidewalk. 

When she was out of earshot, Crowley said, “What’s so urgent, angel?” 

“You’d better come inside,” Aziraphale said by way of an answer, stepping out of the doorway to allow Crowley to enter. 

The demon did. He walked up the steps and entered the bookshop, and found himself in a different world. 

“Whaa-?”

He was not positive he was in the right place. A large pine tree, decorated with lights and ornaments and garland stood tall and proud in the middle of the shop, at least 10 feet tall. The garland continued, lining the railings and tops of each bookshelf. Crowley could smell cinnamon and nutmeg and peppermint in the air - each smell distinct and pleasurable. There was even a light dusting of snow on the ground; real snow, by all appearances, but it was not melting and it only fell onto the floor (no books were harmed). 

“Do you like it?” Aziraphale asked from behind Crowley, nervous excitement seeping into his voice. 

Aziraphale knew - of  _ course _ he knew - Crowley loved Christmas. He always had. When the world got darker and the light shone less often, Crowley would retreat into himself. The demon, typically grumpy on a good day, only became angrier and more lethargic during the winter. Christmas (and the earlier celebrations) was the one time he was surrounded by light and love and warmth during the coldest time of the year. 

“When did you get a fireplace, angel?” Crowley asked. His glasses were still on, but the wonder in his eyes shone through the tinted glass. 

Across the room, directly in front of Aziraphale’s favorite chair, a large fireplace crackled. A cast iron pot sat just above the flames; Crowley knew without looking inside that it would be filled with chestnuts roasting on an open fire. 

It was his favorite Christmas song. Aziraphale knew this too. 

“Do you like it?” Aziraphale asked again, taking a step closer to Crowley. He was close enough to hear Crowley sniff, then to be nearly bowled over when Crowley wrapped him in an appreciative hug. 

“Thanks, angel,” Crowley said, rubbing his nose. 

“I’m afraid the rest of the song was a bit harder to do inside,” Aziraphale said, cheeks red from the compliment and the hug. “But, now that you’re here, I can make it happen!” 

The angel reached his hand up to perform another miracle, intent on bringing Jack Frost in to nip their noses (which sounded less than pleasant to him, but this was for Crowley), but Crowley grabbed his hand to stop him. 

“Aziraphale,” he said softly. “What’s all this for?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks grew redder, and he looked away. “I, well, you see,” the angel babbled. “I wanted to spend Christmas, that is, the _day_ , together and I wanted it to be perfect for you so that you would stay, and…” He trailed off, all the words said, but unsure as to how they would be received. 

Crowley’s cheeks turned red as well, and he scoffed to cover up his embarrassment. “All you had to do was ask, angel.” 

After a moment, Aziraphale cleared his throat and said, without looking at Crowley, “Well. Then. Consider this me asking. You, that is. Consider this me asking you.”

The fire swelled for a moment as Crowley accepted the proposal, but Aziraphale got his emotions under control once more before any real damage was done to the bookshop. 

They spent Christmas together. They drank and sang and, at one point, Aziraphale tried his best to teach Crowley to dance, but Crowley was both far too drunk and far too nervous to hold Aziraphale’s hand, and they both ended up falling down. They laughed. They enjoyed one another’s company. 

It was the first of many Christmases they would spend together, the Christmas after Armageddont, but it was the _first_. 

And they spent it together. 


End file.
